


all fucked up and no place to go

by scioscribe



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Hurt/Comfort, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Omega Peter Quill, Only Humans Have A/B/O, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-06 02:44:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20499569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scioscribe/pseuds/scioscribe
Summary: Peter Quill is the only omega in all of space.It sucks.





	all fucked up and no place to go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Snickfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snickfic/gifts).

There were a lot of things about being the only Terran in outer space that just _sucked balls_, like how it hard it was to get replacement Walkman batteries or the solid hour of talking he had to do before anybody could even start understanding _Knight Rider_. But if Peter had to name the shittiest thing about being the only human in space?

“I’m an omega,” he said.

Gamora said, “I don’t know what that is.”

“Yeah, I know. I know you don’t know what it is. Nobody here knows what it is. Humans are, like, genetic fuckups compared to the rest of the universe.” He scrubbed his hands through his hair, wrinkling his nose at how his sweat had already taken on the distinctive earthy musk that meant it was almost go time. “Look, humans come in three flavors.”

“Like Neapolitan ice cream,” Drax said.

Of course fucking Neapolitan ice cream had somehow made the translator chip cut but _omega _hadn’t. “Alpha, beta, and omega.”

“Which one’s strawberry?” Rocket said. “Because I could do without that.”

“None of them! It’s a goddamn analogy and I’m not even the one who suggested it!”

Gamora squeezed his arm. A totally reassuring gesture between friends that didn’t at all kickstart something inside him that made him want to sink to his knees. “Peter, we’re listening. Everyone’s going to _shut up now_.”

Peter took a shaky breath. “Okay, in the damn ice cream metaphor, betas are vanilla. Standard. They’re eighty percent of the population and they don’t have hyped-up scent glands or heats or,” here he swallowed, his throat not dry but _slick, ready_, “the drive to submit or dominate or whatever. Alphas are chocolate, the best, sexiest option. Like David Hasselhoff. And omegas are _strawberry_, all right? Being an omega blows. For, like, a whole bunch of reasons, but right _now_, the only one that matters is that I’m going into heat. So we need to drop everything and get me to a really accommodating brothel right now so I can get my brains banged out for a couple of days.”

And he couldn’t believe he’d just said all of that in front of twig-Groot. Great, now he was basically the creepy uncle.

Everybody stared at him for what he clocked at maybe thirty seconds and then Gamora said crisply, “Then we’ll get you wherever you need to go.”

“Yeah,” Rocket said. “I can see about giving the engines a speed boost. What’s your timeline like on the whole super-horniness thing?”

He wasn’t even sure. The hyperspace jumps messed with his biorhythms—he’d seen this dirt-cheap medic about it when he'd been about twenty and she’d done a full scan and told him that if he settled down planet-side, he’d maybe come into heat once every four years. But what was he supposed to do, stay grounded? Give all this up? He'd figured fine, he’d dance on the whole razor’s edge of predictability; Ravagers always tried to stay within a jump or two of a pleasure planet anyhow.

Problem was, he wasn’t a Ravager anymore. And he’d let himself get so hopped up on all the galaxy-saving that he’d skipped on being careful.

It wasn’t like the paid-for company was ideal—for one thing, it was crazy expensive—but it beat what he had right now, which was his right hand and an emergency dildo.

“_Quill_,” Rocket said.

He blinked. “I don’t know.”

“What happens to you if you do not mate during your heat cycle?” Drax said. His voice was weirdly gentle.

“Nothing,” Peter said, meeting everyone’s eyes in what he hoped was a reassuringly honest and aboveboard fashion. “Let’s just—try to make sure that doesn’t happen, okay? I’m going to take my strawberry ice cream situation and just go to my room, all right? Come and get me when we’re someplace people fuck for money.”

He retreated down the corridor at a dignified, captain-like pace that totally wasn’t a run. When he got to his room, he leaned back against the door for a second, panting, and then let himself lie down on the bed, his hands closing intermittently around his clothes, tugging at them. Not yet. If he waited long enough, even the silicon dildo would feel pretty good. He had to keep that in mind. Rushing—trying to even jerk off now, let alone fuck himself—would only lead to him getting sore while _still _not being satisfied. Because it wasn’t just about getting his ass reamed—no, that would make his life too easy. He craved _skin_, skin and scent and somebody else’s sweat against his body. Somebody telling his hormone-drenched brain what to do.

So—wait. Wait. It wasn’t that bad, right? It couldn’t be worse than his first heat at sixteen, when even he had barely known what the hell was going on. He knew what was happening here.

And he knew that, one way or another, he’d live through it. Going through a solo heat wouldn’t kill him.

“Just make me wish I was dead,” he muttered. He let his hand stray, his palm grazing against where his cock pressed against his pants, and he heard himself whimper.

It probably hadn’t even been five minutes. He had to get a hold of himself.

He curled on his side, pressing his forehead against the cool bulkhead.

***

He had no clue how much later it was when they hacked his lock. He only _kind of _had the presence of mind to register what was probably the exact moment his crew lost whatever respect for him they’d maybe sort of sometimes had.

He was naked, soaked with sweat and reeking with pheromones. He couldn’t stop shaking. His cock was hard and flushed and his hole was glistening with slick, a designated fuck-me target his body was flashing for anything in a hundred-mile radius. He’d finally given in and tried the dildo, and it was up him now, but it wasn’t enough, not even close. It wasn’t _real_.

His face was wet, and he was trying like hell to believe that was just sweat, that he wasn’t on his bed actually crying while he tried to fuck a piece of silicon.

He raised his head and smiled kind of blearily at them. “Hey, guys. We there?”

“Peter,” Gamora said, and he saw a muscle in her throat jump as she swallowed. “Peter, this is not _nothing_.”

“Yeah, sorry.” His hips rolled involuntarily, driving himself further onto the stupid inanimate dildo. “I mostly meant that it’s not fatal.”

He saw her and Rocket and Drax all trade some significant looks, and then Rocket said, “I’m gonna go get you some water, Quill. Maybe something with a whole lot of bonus electrolytes.”

Drax and Gamora sat down on either side of him. Being surrounded like that with hot, untouchable skin was going to drive him out of his mind. He shook his head. “You need to go. I’m fine, seriously. It’ll wear off in a few days.”

“But it’s better if you’re with someone else,” Gamora said. “Right? That’s why you wanted us to take you somewhere.”

“Yeah, but—”

“We are someone else,” Drax said.

What? He couldn’t say this hadn’t been the basis for a couple dozen jerk-off fantasies, but seriously? He just blinked at them, like they were going to dissolve into daydreams.

“We can help you, Peter,” Gamora said. “What do you need? Penetration?”

Okay, his fantasies hadn’t actually included Gamora delving into a checklist of clinical details. “You can’t possibly want to do this.”

“I enjoy sex,” Drax said. “If you truly think it’s a repugnant idea, you might be doing it wrong.”

Gamora said nothing, but she was steady and there and warm, and Peter didn’t have enough pride left in him to go on saying no. He hitched his chin up, wordlessly agreeing, and then managed to say, “Just tell me what to do,” and hoped that the nine million different ways he meant that would come through.

Apparently some of it did, because she clasped his face between her hands, the feel of her skin against his like some kind of burning high-voltage shock, and said, “Get on your knees so Drax can get behind you.”

Yes. Fuck, yes. Even though his thighs ached, he scrambled up, all but pushing his ass up in Drax’s space.

Not that Drax seemed to mind, because he just trailed one squared, blunt fingertip along the sensitive edge of Peter’s hole and tugged the dildo out of him. He actually laughed at it. “What an absurdly small toy penis. That couldn’t even hope to prepare you for mine.”

“Dude, just fuck me already,” Peter said.

“In his own time,” Gamora said. She hadn’t let go of his face. She leaned down and kissed him, hard and possessive, even as he felt two of Drax’s fingers slide into him, testing how ready he was. And even that, even this, pinned between fingers and kiss, neither of it exactly right, was so much better than being on his own. He had them—the taste of her, the feel of him—and he made a little sobbing noise into Gamora’s mouth and it was like she licked it off his lips, like she was an alpha after all, like she thought he was delicious. She dragged one hand across his shoulders, scratching him so lightly it was nothing more than a tease.

He knew how strong she was. How careful was she trying to be with him? He tipped his head down, breathless, and felt her lips graze his hair. He was looking down the front of her shirt, at the shine of sweat between her breasts, and he licked at it, craving the taste. Craving _her_.

"You can be rough," he said, in between strokes of his tongue against her smooth, soft skin. "It's all good. I just want to feel you."

The next time she raked her nails across his back, it was harder and more deliberate, like fire following lines of gasoline; her chest heaved and he burrowed further forward against her, tearing at her shirt to reach more of her skin. He got her partly out of her bra and sucked one dark green nipple into his mouth.

Drax took him by the hips, the head of his cock pressing against Peter’s hole, and then sank slowly into him. Peter gritted his teeth—Drax hadn’t been kidding about his dick—but Gamora raised his head for him and squeezed his jaw until his lips parted again. She bit at them. He understood, kind of, what she was going for. She was forcing him to be soft for them, open for them. His whole body ached wanting to please them.

Not even just his body.

“You’re incredibly tight,” Drax said, his hips hammering steadily now against Peter’s ass. “People should fuck you more often, Quill.”

“I agree,” Gamora said calmly, pulling back just a little. “I’ll go after you.” Her eyes never left Peter’s, and he wondered what the hell she was doing, and who had taught her how to do it, and what that had taken out of her—it was like she was reading every flicker of thought he had. “In the meantime, Peter, your mouth isn’t busy.” She unzipped her pants and peeled them down. “Do something about that.”

She spread herself out on the head of the bed, her thighs to either side of his head, and he buried his face between her legs with a sigh of relief. Everything was scent and taste and feel, and he was full and taken care of, and he knew it was bullshit, he knew it was all just chemical programming and two friends helping a buddy out, but that rationality was like a tiny whisper underneath the full-throated fuck-yes cry his body was giving off right now.

And Gamora was wet, as wet as he was. So maybe this wasn’t just about him, after all. Maybe he really was making them happy.

He licked at her cunt, the skin there such a dark green that at its most blood-suffused, at her clit, it was almost black; he tested her tenderness and sensitivity, trying as hard as he could to give her his all even as Drax wrung the occasional idiotic fuck-me-harder noise out of him. He had to serve them both, that was what an omega did, right? And oral was kind of a more active endeavor. He tasted her center, where she glistened with this incredibly tangy, awesome taste, and he was sliding his tongue in and out of her when he felt Drax come inside him in several long pumps. He stilled, letting the movement rock him back and forth against Gamora’s cunt, and then she was holding his head and grinding against him and coming too, her cunt pulsing against his lips.

Drax stroked his back and sides, petting him like he was some kind of oversized cat.

“Good, Quill,” he said soothingly. “And you served Gamora well, too. Having you whenever you happen to come into heat should be a joy for anyone.”

That seemed so wildly off-base that Peter actually laughed. Gamora pulled him up by his hair and said, “It isn’t funny, Peter. You think using you for days, ordering you around for days, is something just anyone should get to do? Drax and I will take care of you.”

Shit, he’d come at some point, too. He didn’t even know when the hell that had been.

“Are you good for a minute?” she said, her eyes softening. “You should drink something.”

“Yeah.” His voice was half-croak.

Drax seemed to have zero problems being naked in front of Rocket—and damn, if Peter were hung like that, he’d go around swinging dick all the time—but Gamora at least pulled her underwear back on. Drax, like some kind of Victorian chaperone, tucked the bedsheet around Peter’s waist, shielding him from further view. Peter decided to pretend like the sheer weird niceness of that didn’t make his throat hurt a little.

Rocket came in so soon after they yelled for him that there was a non-zero chance that he’d been standing right outside the door the whole time, which Peter was just going to not think about.

“Good,” Rocket said, scrutinizing the three of them. He handed out water bottles. “So you two are looking after Quill. Am I still heading for the nearest cheap hookup?”

Everyone looked at him, the one that needed to be fucked virtually non-stop.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. That’s—that’s fine.”

“Just so we’re clear, is that fine like how it was fine that you were curled up in here looking like death warmed-over, or what a sane person would call fine? --See, now your silence is making me think it’s the first one.”

“It’ll just be hard, that’s all,” Peter said. “Going from this to something else. Switching alphas mid-ride when I already belong to you.” Shit. “When I’m already _used _to you, I mean. But it’s totally cool. I do it every time.”

Except all those other times, he hadn’t spent his first go-round with _Gamora _and _Drax_, people he was crazy attracted to even without his fucking omega chemistry running riot, people he—loved.

Putting himself in someone else’s hands now was going to hurt like a bitch, and he wasn’t even sure it would be better his next heat, either. It was hard to picture taking somebody else’s commands—_lick, suck, raise your ass, tighter, harder, faster_—without feeling like he was ripping some idiotic one-sided bond in half. Everybody, give it up for Peter Quill, probably the galaxy’s first omega to claim two alphas who couldn’t claim him back even if they wanted to.

He’d maybe missed another question in there. His dick was getting hard again.

“Go wherever we were going before Quill diverted us,” Drax said.

“Drax and I will make sure Peter doesn’t need any special stops along the way,” Gamora said.

Rocket flashed them a thumbs-up and left them to their business.

“You don’t have to do this,” Peter said. “You got me to even—that’ll last for a little while, I promise.”

“I don’t know why you think having sex with you is this horrible hardship,” Gamora said. “Drax was right.”

“Yeah, but—”

It was Drax who stopped him, kissing him then, licking the taste of Gamora off his lips. Drax’s mouth was strangely cool, even though his body up against Peter’s was hot, especially on the ridged markings; when Peter stroked along one of those, Drax shuddered pleasantly underneath his hand.

“That feels good.”

Peter said, “I want to make you both feel good.” He hated how _needy _he sounded.

“Then we’ll make sure you do,” Gamora said. She was gentle with him now, her hand pushing through his hair, over the same sore spots she’d left a couple minutes ago tugging at him. “Every time. Because you belong to us.” She reached beneath the sheets and took his cock in her hand, pumping it almost lazily. “And I don’t know about Drax, but I’ve thought about this before.”

“I’ve pleasured myself many, many times imagining some combination of this,” Drax said. He reached over Peter’s shoulder and tentatively touched Gamora’s hair. “You are both exceptionally beautiful. And I like the taste of strawberry ice cream. I like how pink and delicate it is.”

Okay. Then—okay. Not exactly the sum-up he’d been hoping for, but he’d take it. He’d hold onto this so tightly somebody would have to tear it out of his hands. He felt his eyes start to burn.

Gamora leaned forward, resting her forehead briefly against Drax’s. There was a stiffness to her stomach muscles that Peter was close enough to see, one that eased first slightly and then totally as Drax kissed her, too. Their hands roamed over Peter’s body, caressing him lightly, until some embarrassing noise broke out of him.

“I’ll fuck you with my fingers now,” Gamora said.

They arranged him, his ass up in the air, his head down and turned sideways, pillowed on Drax’s thighs.

Gamora tested him. “You get even wetter than I do,” she said. “And now you’re full of Drax’s come, too. By the time your heat runs out, you’ll be flooded with it.” She slid her fingers in and out of him, her own breathing getting heavier with want.

Drax ran his thumb along Peter’s swollen lips. “Relax,” he said.

And in their hands, held between them, fucked and petted—Peter did.


End file.
